


would it be so mad?

by trinsolo



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 4: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Draco Malfoy is Bad at Feelings, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Draco Malfoy, One Shot, Pansy Parkinson is a Good Friend, Pining Draco Malfoy, Reader-Insert, Slytherin, Slytherin Reader, Teen Romance, Teenagers, Yule Ball (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:28:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25003159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trinsolo/pseuds/trinsolo
Summary: or, "peppermint humbugs."Draco could have any girl in Hogwarts in a puddle at his feet; all he needed to do was ask. It was nice.Yet here he was, dateless for the ball.And you had waited for him to ask you.He didn’t.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy & Reader, Draco Malfoy/Original Female Character(s), Draco Malfoy/Reader
Comments: 5
Kudos: 402
Collections: Draco





	would it be so mad?

**Author's Note:**

> this took me longer to write than necessary.  
> i also made a visual board inspired by this fic, which you can find [here.](https://www.pinterest.com/milkyberry17/yule-ball/)

“This is mad. At this rate we'll be the only ones in our year without dates. Well, us and Neville,” Ron grumbled, completely ignoring the Potions textbook lying unread in front of him. You bit back a laugh as Snape met Ron’s musings with a swift smack to the back of his head.

“But then again he can take himself,” Harry quipped with a smirk.

It was late in the afternoon, and the midday sun shone through the arched windows of the Great Hall. The Gryffindors and Slytherins, of course, shared a Potions class, and the students of both houses sat at the elongated tables, causing the aerial view of the hall to resemble a mass of red and green specks. You sat at the edge of a group of Slytherins, adjacent to a group of Gryffindors- which happened to include Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Being in Slytherin, you didn’t get to speak with them often, but you quite enjoyed chatting with each other (much to the dismay of Draco, Pansy and the rest of your house). 

Despite the rule of silence heavily enforced by Snape, a low murmur rippled throughout the room, anticipation and excitement lingering in the air. The Yule Ball was mere days away, and the adolescent anxiety had been tangible for the last week or so, permeating the thoughts of even the coldest of students. The promise of frivolity, a break from their studies, and possibly romance made it nearly impossible for everyone to keep their minds on schoolwork (everyone except Hermione, of course). 

“It might interest you to know that Neville's already got someone,” She sighed, head darting up from her textbook. 

“ _Longbottom?_ Are you serious?” You leaned to chime in, your voice lowered to a whisper to avoid a smacking. Hermione raised her eyebrows at you in confirmation. Harry and Ron sunk into their seats.

“Now I’m really depressed,” groaned Ron.

“Chin up, Ron,” you whispered, shooting him a sympathetic look. Ron didn’t meet your eyes, however, as his attention had moved to his twin brothers, who had been snickering further down the table. You watched as Fred slid Ron a loose piece of parchment. On it were the words _GET A MOVE ON OR ALL THE GOOD ONES WILL HAVE GONE!_

Ron jeered mockingly back at the twins. Fred replied with a wink. Ron and Harry watched in awe as Fred somehow convinced Angelina Johnson to attend with him within thirty seconds. Ron sighed as he slowly turned to face Hermione.

“Well. Hermione, you're a girl.”

“Oh, well spotted.”

Hermione scribbled furiously into her workbook as she glared at the redhead. 

“Come on. It's one thing for a bloke to show up alone. For a girl, it's just sad.”

Suddenly, you slammed your textbook onto the table, a little louder than you had intended to. The Golden Trio looked up at you, mouths agape.

“You alright, Y/N?” Ron asked.

You clenched a portion of your robes tightly as you noticed other students glancing your way. Ron had unwittingly struck a nerve.

You didn’t have a date.

It’s not that you were unable to find one- you were pretty, extremely so. Well-mannered and intelligent. You had received your fair share of ball invitations in the last few days- some suitors from Slytherin, and some from other houses. But you had turned each of them down. There wasn’t anything wrong with them, though. 

Your eyes wandered farther down the table, into the sea of green. Your gaze landed on a certain platinum blonde boy. His eyes were squinted slightly, his grey eyes narrowing in on the words in his book. A twinge struck in your chest. 

You had turned everyone down because they weren’t _him._

When you weren’t with Harry, Ron, and Hermione, you clung to the outskirts of Draco’s clique- Pansy, Theo, Blaise, Crabbe, and Goyle (although you found that the latter two weren’t exactly ideal partners for intellectually stimulating conversation). They were a sour lot- they could be cruel to others, and resented that you fraternized with Gryffindors. However, you were sharp-tongued, clever, and kind to them when others were not. As much as they were spiteful people, they were _your_ spiteful people.

And there was Draco. He had made your stomach turn since the moment he shook your hand and befriended you on the train your first year. Whether this turning feeling was a positive or negative thing had taken you quite a while to figure out. He always had the ability to command a room, and you envied his confidence. As the years passed, you had come to adore him more and more each day, even on the days you wanted to smack him upside the head (which was more days than you cared to admit). You flirted with sarcasm and verbal jabs, the only way you knew how. And you had waited. Waited for him to see you as more than one of his cronies. And you had waited for him to ask you to the ball.

He didn’t.

Suddenly, Draco looked up, catching your gaze. You gulped, then quickly turned away.

“Just- tired of Potions work,” you said slowly. Harry and Ron paused, then nodded, seeming to accept your explanation. Hermione furrowed her brows at the boys, then gave you a supportive smile. She knew.

“Actually,” she began, opening her mouth to speak.

Suddenly, you felt hard, heavy leather strike your neck. You hissed in pain, looking up to see Snape scowling at the four of you, large book in hand. He hit each of you in turn. 

Pansy snorted from further down the table.  
“ _Y/L/N_ . If you are that dissatisfied with today’s curriculum, might I suggest you turn in your work now, as it is? I trust that you _must have_ completed the assignment, correct?” Snape seethed, glowering down at you.

You bit down on your tongue as Hermione shot you a worried look. Snape clearly doubted your abilities. Holding the professor’s gaze, you coolly shut your workbook and handed it to him. Normally, Snape scared the living daylights out of you, but today you had enough on your mind. There wasn’t any room for him in your thoughts at the moment. Snape plucked the book from your hand, then aggressively flipped through its contents. He grimaced.

“I suppose it’s comforting to know that you haven’t yet embarrassed Slytherin after all. You are excused, Y/L/N,” Snape hissed. He threw his final accusatory stares at the Gryffindors before marching away, most likely to reprimand another group of students for chatting.

The four of you watched as he walked away. Hermione sighed, rubbing the back of her head.

“Sorry, everyone,” you muttered, shifting in your seat.

“Don’t apologize, Y/N,” Harry replied reassuringly. “Snape has it out for all of us.”

Ron and Hermione nodded in agreement. 

“Anyways,” Ron mumbled, “As I was saying about the ball-”

“As _I_ was saying, _Ronald_ ,” snapped Hermione, looking as if she was about to implode. “Not to be unsympathetic to Y/N, but I won't be going alone, because believe it or not someone's asked me.” Hermione gathered her things and stood up from the table. 

“And I said yes,” she huffed. She gave a polite nod to you before flaring her nostrils at Ron, storming away from the table to hand in her work to Snape.

“Bloody hell,” said Ron as he shook his head. Harry buried his face in his book, and you thought he might melt into the ground. You sighed, and began to gather your belongings.

“I think I might as well get going too,” you said, your words met with frowns from both boys. 

“Fine. We’ll see you later, yeah?” said Harry. You nodded, though you were uncertain. 

_It might be better to lay low for awhile until all of the Yule Ball excitement dies down,_ you thought. _Any more fuss might make this experience worse._

You were still going to the ball, of course. If you didn’t, you’d never hear the end of it from your friends. Plus, you’d never pass up an excuse to cast aside your dull uniform robes in favor of something more elegant.

As you started to make your way to the doors, you felt a hand pull on your wrist. 

“Oi. Where do you think you’re going?”

Your heart nearly jumped into your throat. Turning around, you found yourself face to face with a familiar head of platinum hair. You gulped, silently urging yourself to calm down. You saw him every day. _Today is no different._

“Snape said I’m finished for the day,” you replied breathlessly as he raised one eyebrow. You looked over at the seats behind Draco. The entire group was there, and your heart warmed at the sight. Blaise stretched an arm into the air, beckoning you to come over. Pansy stuck her tongue out teasingly.

“Where exactly have you been?” Draco snapped, glaring in the direction of Harry and Ron. “I still don’t understand why you feel the need to speak to _them,_ ” he sneered. “Weasel-bee, Potter, and the Mudbl-”

You coughed pointedly, not noticing his eyes lingering on your lips for maybe a millisecond. 

“They’re _nice,_ Draco.”

“And we’re not?” The edges of his mouth curled slightly, hinting at the beginnings of a smirk. You scoffed, though you could feel your cheeks threatening to redden.

“I never said that,” you replied with as much snark as you could muster. He released your wrist, and the skin where he’d touched you immediately felt cold with longing.

“Come sit. I need help with something,” he sighed, crossing his arms. His expression could only be compared to a dejected puppy. Unable to say no to him, you relented at last, squeezing onto the bench between Draco and Blaise. You set down your books with a _thud_ , and across the table, Pansy eyed you warily. Crabbe and Goyle were having a heated discussion regarding the distance they believed a pumpkin pasty could be thrown, and Theo was writing diligently in his workbook. Blaise gave you a small smile, then continued writing.

“Everything okay, Pans?” You said, looking up at the dark-haired girl eyeing you. As if awoken from a trance, her eyes suddenly brightened. She bristled.

“Y/N. Yes. Hello.”

Her smile faltered for a second before she returned her attention to the assignment. You tilted your chin in curiosity. Everyone knew Pansy liked Draco, of course. But there was no need for her to envy you; surely they were attending the ball together. Brushing aside your confusion, you turned to face Draco, who was looking at you impatiently.

“Alright, what is it?”

Draco pushed his open textbook towards you and gestured exasperatedly at the page. 

“I can’t understand this _rubbish._ It’s bloody impossible,” he groaned. You squinted at him. Normally, Draco was the one helping the group with the Potions assignments. Helping was a strong word; rather, he was the one who frustratedly explained the Potions concepts to everyone, baffled by the incompetence of whoever dared to ask such a stupid question.

“Are you serious?” You scoffed, bewildered. Draco narrowed his eyes at you.

“Quite.”

You pulled the book towards you, scanning the page.

‘“It’s Antidote Theory, Draco. We’re supposed to write a parchment’s length about its practical applications.”

“Really? I hadn’t gathered that,” he uttered sarcastically. 

You stammered. “It’s just- I didn’t expect to have to explain this to you, of all people.” 

Draco scoffed and sharply pulled the textbook away from you. 

“Fine, then. Nevermind.” 

The Slytherin prince turned away from you before you could protest.

“Theo,” he whispered, grabbing the lanky boy’s attention. Theo looked up quizzically. 

You sighed, eyeing the group as Theo reluctantly put aside his quill and heeded Draco’s request.

Gathering your books again once more, you waved quiet goodbyes to the rest of the group, fearing Snape’s wrath and wanting to escape the intoxicating feeling of being in Draco’s vicinity. You didn’t need any more reminders of where your relationship with him stood; you were a friend, at best, of convenience. Pushing through the doors of the Great Hall, you found the corridors were busier than usual, bustling with students still chattering away about the ball. As pressure built behind them, you raised the sleeve of your robes to your eyes, wiping away the small tears that began to blur your view of the corridor. In your hurry, you hadn't noticed the way the light in Draco’s eyes had dulled when he saw you leave, and that his gaze had followed you all the way out.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________

Draco, unbeknownst to anyone but Pansy Parkinson, had no date to the Yule Ball. 

It definitely wasn’t that he had trouble finding one. Despite his notoriety as the school arse, his reputation had grown an unusual second head- one as the school heartthrob. While he didn’t expect this outcome, he didn’t mind it, of course. How could he complain? The throngs of whispering girls in the corridors as he passed by, the constant attention from Pansy. He could have any girl in Hogwarts in a puddle at his feet; all he needed to do was ask. It was nice. 

Yet here he was, dateless for the ball. 

Draco walked silently through the dungeon corridor, nearing the entrance to the Slytherin common room. The sun had begun to set over the horizon, and he had left supper in a dazed stupor. Blaise and Theo had given him knowing expressions as he left his plate of roast beef and yorkshire pudding untouched. _What exactly was their problem?_ He grinded his teeth, muttering under his breath as he pondered what exactly was wrong with _him_. He had noted the look on Pansy’s face, as her hazel eyes bore glumly into her food, refusing to look at him. Draco grimaced, recalling the events that took place several nights prior.

Her short black bob covered her face as a single tear rolled off of her chin. He had stood there uncomfortably, his blonde brows knit together in both sympathy and aversion. 

“But us, together- we make sense,” Pansy had whispered, wiping away her tears. She had just asked Draco to the Yule Ball, to which he had replied a soft yet firm “no.”

Draco had shaken his head, eyes distant. “I can’t,” he had replied. He couldn’t explain why, but he had an unshaking feeling that the role of his date (and the space in his heart for what Pansy wanted to be) was reserved for someone else.

The next afternoon, he was informed that Pansy would be attending the ball with Theo, although from the way she’d been acting lately, it was apparent she was still a bit hurt. Everyone he knew was going with someone, save for Blaise, who had never been all that interested in romance, and Crabbe and Goyle. _They can go with each other,_ he thought with a small smile, rounding the corner to the common room entrance. He sighed, silently cursing himself for the strange way he had been acting. He shouldn’t be this irritated by the fact he was dateless; there were sure to be plenty of willing girls at the Yule Ball who would jump at the chance of just one waltz with him. And yet, a weight sat on his chest, remembering the way you had walked out of the Great Hall earlier that day. You, who was always there for him, regardless of the fact that your support and generosity was masked in seven layers of sarcasm. You, who always seemed to be able to make him laugh, whether intentional or not. He couldn’t quite come to terms with the way he felt whenever you smiled at him after winning a match of verbal sparring. Draco gulped as he pushed aside the door to the common room. 

The dark space was empty, a fire roaring in the small green fireplace in the far end of the room. The plush leather seats that filled the room were unoccupied. Draco shrugged. _Everyone’s still at supper, I suppose._ He exhaled, slowly moving towards the door to the boys’ dormitories. Suddenly, he heard the slight squeaking noise of movement across leather. He whipped around, eyes surveying the room. 

“Hello?” He spoke into the stagnant air. You arose from your seat on the sofa behind a stone pillar, letting out a resigned sigh. 

“It’s only me,” you half laughed. You had been reading, but you’d fallen asleep, only to be awoken by the last person you wanted to see right now walking in the door. Your hair was a tad mussed, and upon noticing this, Draco suppressed a grin.

“Y/N. You weren’t at supper,” he pointed out after a short pause.

“Oh, really? I hadn’t noticed,” you replied. Draco snorted.

“Still keeping up the whole sarcastic front, are you?” He crossed the room, taking a seat next to you.

You bit your lip, trying not to let his sudden closeness affect you. “Who ever said it was a front?” You crossed your arms defiantly.

Draco cocked an eyebrow at you, watching your face. 

“What’s got you in such a twist these last few days, then?” He muttered. “You seem to dislike me even more than usual. Even the others have noticed you’ve been acting odd.” 

You thought you detected a hint of sincerity in his voice. _Impossible,_ you thought. _He’s just teasing me as he usually does._ Straightening your posture, you replied coolly.

“I’m not in a twist. It’s just been a difficult week.” Well. This second part wasn’t entirely a lie. 

“And I don’t dislike you,” you added.

Draco narrowed his eyes. He could definitely tell you were hiding _something_. He had found that he could always tell, notably because of the way your voice raised slightly, and the way you’d begin picking at your cuticles. 

“If you say so,” he said cautiously. 

“It is.” 

There was a brief silence, in which you forced yourself to ignore the gold flecks you’d noticed in Draco’s eyes as he examined you, and Draco forced himself to resist the urge to pull you into his arms despite how well the lamplight illuminated your features.

“What about you then? Asking for my help in Potions? I’d say that’s quite out of the ordinary, Draco,” you said finally. Draco frowned.

“Shut up. I can have my bad days,” he grumbled. You grinned, faltering only when he teasingly nudged your elbow with his.

“Alright, alright.”

Reaching down next to you, you fumbled inside your canvas bag. You soon produced your Potions textbook, smacking it down onto the coffee table.

“Do you still need help, then?” You looked at him with a smile. Draco gulped, a pang of adoration rendering him tongue-tied. He nodded slowly, then inched closer to you to lean over the book. The leather squeaked under his legs, making the gesture a bit more awkward than endearing. _Shit,_ thought Draco, keeping his eyes focused on the diagrams in the textbook. Although the two of you had shared plenty of little touches here and there during arguments, he had never before existed so closely within your bubble. 

As you read and explained to him from the textbook, the words tumbled out across your tongue, but your mind was situated elsewhere.

 _Hm. Apples and sandalwood,_ you noted of the small breeze that formed as he shifted closer.

 _Rose and vanilla,_ he thought to himself, as you flicked your hair over your shoulder.

Each time you turned the page, Draco remained hanging on to your every word, and on the occasion where he’d reach to turn the page himself, your hands would brush ever so slightly. He was a surprisingly good listener, and would sometimes chime in, elaborating on your comments. Despite the flips that your stomach was doing, part of you felt a twinge of disappointment, realizing he’d never recognize how much you cared for him, and how much this was killing you.

“You don’t care much for the festivities, then?” He suddenly probed, crossing his legs. “I mean, you don’t seem too keen about them.” 

You shook your head, carefully picking up your cup of tea from the lacquered coffee table. 

“By the festivities, I assume you’re referring to the Yule Ball?” It sounded more bitter than you’d intended it to. Hoping it’d go unnoticed, you calmly raised your chamomile tea to your lips. 

“Obviously,” Draco retorted. You raised a hand to flick him sharply on the shoulder. 

“Then yes, I can’t say I’m overly excited about it,” you confessed, taking another sip of your tea.

He stared at you, genuinely puzzled.

“Why is that?” 

With a swift movement, Draco shut the Potions textbook and turned to face you again.

You swallowed reluctantly. _Do I really want him knowing?_ Bracing yourself, you took another large sip of your tea, which had gone cold in the time you’d been studying. Draco looked at you expectantly.

“I don’t have a date,” you finally muttered, not daring yourself to look at him. You didn’t need to see his pitiful expression. In actuality, however, the peach color once again tinted Draco’s cheeks, and he stared at you, lips parted in shock. 

“Really?” Draco whispered incredulously. You scoffed, still not looking at him. 

“Yes. No need to rub it in.”

“I’m not.”

“Well, knowing you, you might.”

“Hush. How come you have no date?”

You looked down at your shoes against the intricate green carpet. 

“Don’t know. Right person didn’t ask.”

Draco blinked in disbelief, his typically stern face scrunched. He slunk down into the sofa cushions. _Surely,_ he thought, _someone would have asked her._ The subtle roar of the fireplace filled the silence between you, and you silently thanked the crackling embers for lessening the tension.

“You’re not laughing at me, Draco,” you said, breaking the silence. “That’s new.”

You looked over at him, his face seemingly deep in thought. He frowned, suddenly sitting up.

“Please. I don’t laugh _at_ you, I laugh _with_ you.”

“Mhm.”

Draco’s elbow brushed yours again, only for once he looked conscious of it. You turned, and his eyes lingered on you with such intensity you felt as if you might disintegrate.

“I don’t have one either, you know,” he said, his volume short of a mumble. Your eyes widened immediately. Sitting upright, it was now your turn to stare at him.

“You _what?_ ”

Draco nodded. You wrung your hands, making a face Draco would only compare to a dumbfounded goldfish.

“But you’re-you’re _you_ ,” you breathed. “No Beauxbatons girl? Or what about _Pansy_?” 

Draco exhaled heavily before replying.

“As you said. Right person didn’t ask.”

You let out a guffaw.

“Pansy didn’t ask you? I find that difficult to believe.”

“Oh no, she did,” he replied, his voice frustratingly casual. You sunk further into your seat, shaking your head. You weren’t sure what to think. Yes, you were a bit pleased he wasn’t taking anyone to the ball, and yet you were still dejected- he had no date, but he still didn’t think to ask you. You looked back down at your feet and the patterns in the carpet, unaware that Draco hadn’t stopped staring at you.

“Wouldn’t it be absolutely mad if we went together?” Draco blurted abruptly. You froze, and against your better judgement, you snorted. A little too loudly. You gasped, then quickly slapped a hand over your own mouth. Draco blinked at you. He looked nervous. 

“I’m sorry, what was that?” You whispered.

Draco cleared his throat. 

“Wouldn’t it be _mad_ if we went to the ball together?” He repeated, half smiling. You couldn’t tell if he was joking or not.

“Utterly ridiculous,” you eventually agreed, nodding your head. “Complete madness. Could you imagine? Crabbe and Goyle would have a field day.”

Draco’s lips folded into a thin line. “Oh, yeah. And we wouldn’t be able to stop arguing long enough for one dance.”

You smiled wistfully. “Plus, Draco, I hardly think you’d even agree to go with me in the first place.”

Draco coughed suddenly, then furrowed his brow. “Who says I wouldn’t?”

At this moment, you were incredibly thankful that you chose not to take another sip of tea, for if you had, you would have most definitely choked.

“Would you?” you asked quietly.

Draco sniffed. “I would,” he said with a teasing grin. He was closer to you than ever now, his warm scent you had picked up earlier overwhelming as your fingertips touched lightly on the sofa cushion. The voice in your head along with every cell in your body screamed. Suddenly, the common room door opened with a loud bang, and you heard the sound of scuffling footsteps. Draco retracted his hand, turning irritatedly towards the door, as did you. 

Pansy, Theo, and Blaise had come through the door, chatting animatedly. You coughed, signaling your presence.

“Ah, Y/N,” Theo paused, “and Draco.” He grinned dorkily at Draco, who averted his eyes.

“Hey, guys,” you said, giving a short wave of your hand. “Hi, Pansy.”

Pansy smiled briefly, though she seemed a bit sad. You understood now. You caught her eye, giving her a sympathetic look, hoping she’d recognize it.

“Everything good with you?” asked Blaise, gesturing at you and Draco.

Before you could answer, Theo looked at your faces, then nodded to Blaise with a wink. Blaise smirked as Draco gave them both a look that could easily wilt flowers.

“Actually, we’ll see you both later, then,” said Blaise, grabbing Theo by the shoulder.

“See you,” nodded Draco. Pansy nodded at you with a faint smile, much to your relief, and the three descended up the stairs to their respective dormitories.

Draco turned to you, looking a tad more rattled than he had a minute prior. 

“Right then,” he said.

“You were saying?”

“Oh, yes. I said I would go with you.”

Your head spun as you searched his face for any hint as to whether he was being truthful or merely ribbing you once again. _Are we discussing hypothetical situations, then?_

Despite your dazed and conflicted state of mind, you found your own truth readily spilling out of your mouth; unsurprising, considering it had been sitting there for quite a while.

“I’d go with you too,” you said softly. 

Draco inhaled sharply through his nose, as if he had been expecting the worst. He stood up from the sofa triumphantly, looking down at you with the biggest smile you’d ever seen him wear.

“Well, then. We’ll meet in the main courtyard, Sunday at 8 PM?”

You nearly fainted. “Sorry, what?”

“The ball, Y/N, keep up,” smiled Draco. 

You looked him up and down, not entirely processing his words. “ _What?_ ”

You tugged at the sleeve of his robe in frustration before he walked to the stairs leading to the boys’ dorms. 

“Are you short of hearing, Y/N?” quipped Draco before giving you a mischievous wink. Without another word, he disappeared up the dark stairs.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________

You thought you’d gone mad. Surely someone had slipped a potion into your tea, and you had hallucinated your entire encounter with Draco. Staring into the ornate mirror, you pouted at your reflection. _What am I doing?_ You had swabbed a burnt orange color across your lips, making it look like you had just finished eating some kind of fruit. Dabbed across and under your eyes was a faint apricot shimmer, and your eyelashes had been curled into oblivion. You absentmindedly twirled a strand of hair around your finger, examining the changes. You looked different- in a good way, yes. You checked the time on the wall clock of your dormitory- 7:50. you quickly clasped your necklace around your neck; a small golden snake. Taking one final look in the mirror, you exhaled shakily as you smoothed the fabric of your gown. To be quite honest, you weren’t entirely sure that Draco would even be in the courtyard, where he’d told you to meet. The two of you never actually _asked_ each other to the ball, and you never explicitly said yes to meeting him. And yet here you were, frantically getting ready to go see him anyway. A full day had passed since you’d talked to him last; how utterly convenient was it that you didn’t have any classes with him yesterday? Pulling up the hem of your dress, you slipped your wand into the garter around your thigh. It was time.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________

It was nearly dusk, the winter sun casting its last beams on the castle grounds. A light dusting of snow had begun to fall, landing gently beneath a familiar Slytherin’s dark boots. Draco paced anxiously around the circumference of the courtyard fountain as a windfall of second thoughts assaulted his brain. For one thing, his dress robes felt too stiff. It was already hard enough to breathe considering the gravity of the situation, and his outfit wasn’t making things any easier. The look on your face after his proposal had plagued him until now. _What was I thinking? As if she’d actually show up. And why did I phrase it so vaguely?_ He admonished his heart for acting so impulsively, much to the protest of his brain. 

Just as Draco was considering leaving and drowning his sorrows in illicit Firewhisky (courtesy of Crabbe), a rapid series of soft crunching sounds approached him from behind.

Your hair trailed behind you as you ran, your manicured hands clutching the folds of your skirt. 

“Sorry for making you wait,” you huffed, having hurried across the school. Draco’s breath hitched as he turned around, taking in the sight of you.

Your nose and cheeks had gained a touch of pink from the cold, and your Y/H/C waves fell softly around your face. Your gown fit you perfectly- a delicate thing, composed of black tulle and intricate gold embroidery that upon closer inspection, formed countless constellations. His gaze moved to your lips, wondering if they tasted like citrus as much as they looked.

“It’s alright,” Draco murmured. “I didn’t think you’d actually come.”

You blinked at him, making a mental note of how great he looked in his jet black dress robes.

“Same here,” you confessed.

"Never thought I'd say this, Y/N, but you look good. In tulle, no less."

"Wow. I'm not quite sure how to respond to that."

"Just accept the compliment."

"Is that what that was, then?"

“Yes. Would you like me to take it back?”

You stuck out your tongue at him, blushing. “No.” 

A pause.

“And if it means anything,” you said, “you look nice too.”

Draco smiled, taking a step toward you. “Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

“Merry Christmas, Draco.”

He extended his arm to you. You slipped your arm between the crook of his elbow. He looked down at you as you walked to the Great Hall in silence. What great favor had he committed in his past life to earn the right to look at you like this? 

You soon came upon more students making their way to the ball, everyone dressed in their finest. As you approached the doors, you heard a familiar voice call your name.

“Y/N!”

Releasing Draco’s arm you spun to look for your caller. Hermione gracefully made her way down the adjacent staircase. You gasped- she looked beautiful, her hair in an elegant updo, her dress a fantastic periwinkle blue. She pulled you into a tight embrace. 

“I’m so glad you’re here. My heart won’t stop racing,” she laughed, releasing you from the hug. “You look absolutely gorgeous, by the way.” 

You blushed at the compliment. “You’re one to talk, Hermione.”

She smiled as more and more students began their entrance into the Great Hall. 

“Please. I should find Vikt- I mean, my date,” she replied apologetically. Then, in a whisper: “It’s quite alright not having a date, you know.”

You laughed warmly. “Actually, Hermione-”

Stepping aside, you revealed an impatient looking Draco. Hermione’s eyes widened, then narrowed in suspicion. 

“Malfoy.”

Draco turned to address Hermione. 

“Granger,” he replied with a distasteful look on his face. You nudged his arm and shot him a look that said “play nice.”

Hermione moved to whisper into your ear. “How exactly did _this_ happen?” she asked pointedly, gesturing at Draco. You shrugged.

“I honestly have no idea,” you whispered back, “I’ll explain later.” Hermione nodded reluctantly, glaring at Draco once more before taking the arm of, to your surprise, Viktor Krum.

Draco had led you into the ball by the waist. His eyes swept the crowd, most likely for the rest of your friends. You had never seen the Great Hall like this: large pieces of billowing blue silk lined the walls, along with intricate ice sculptures. The hall seemed to glitter thanks to the plethora of lights, and at its center was the largest Christmas tree you’d ever seen.

“Hermione looked nice,” you observed as the two of you made your way to a table, weaving in and out of the crowd.

“Eh. I’ve seen better,” he replied, looking you up and down. You swatted his arm, eventually taking your seat next to Pansy. The round table happened to be just the right size for your friend group. Theo and Blaise greeted the two of you with smug grins, while Crabbe and Goyle, who had somehow managed to clean up nicely, gave you distracted nods as they tossed a dinner roll amongst themselves. Pansy wore an emerald green gown, with sleeves that fell daintily off of her pale shoulders, and her raven hair had been neatly curled.

“Hey, everyone,” you said shyly. Yes, they were your friends, but your sudden appearance with Draco made you feel oddly exposed. 

Blaise looked between you and Draco, then discreetly slid a galleon under the table to Theo. 

You looked warily at Pansy. Unexpectedly, she beamed at you. 

“Y/N!” she cried, her strikingly white teeth shining against the contrast of her deep purple lipstick. She tightly clasped your hands with hers, and it was then you noticed that they had previously intertwined with Theo’s.

“I actually think tonight’s going to be excellent,” she affirmed, her tone serious. She nodded at Draco politely. He returned her look with an apologetic expression.

“I agree,” you said, squeezing Pansy’s hands. 

Pansy returned her attention to Theo, and you spotted a hint of newfound adoration in her eyes as she listened to him speak. On your other side, you felt another hand, a cold one, brush yours tentatively. 

“What are you doing?” you asked, a grin creeping onto your face. 

Draco was looking in the other direction, yet his hand still lingered on yours. The cold metal of his rings was oddly comforting against your fingers.

“What?”

You bit your lip shyly. 

“This is new, that’s all.”

“Nevermind. I’ll stop if you want,” he muttered. Your fingers quickly curled around his in response. He swiftly locked eyes with you, and you decided his eyes were your favorite thing in the world to look at.

“It’s okay,” you replied,

Suddenly, the sound of trumpets filled the air, and the standing crowd swiftly parted, forming a walkway from the hall entrance. The Triwizard Champions made their entrance, each of them accompanied by their date (although you noticed Harry looked like he had just eaten a Puking Pastille). They moved to the dance floor, and you saw Professor Flitwick raise his baton to lead the orchestra. Soon, an upbeat waltz filled the air.

An amused smirk was plastered on Draco’s face as he watched Harry continuously step on Parvati Patil’s toes. You squeezed his hand.

“Stop it,” you whispered as he continued to admire Harry’s dancing prowess.

Draco scoffed. “Please. You can’t tell me you’re not enjoying this.”

As much as you attempted not to, you let out a few guffaws as the waltz progressed; hopefully Harry wouldn’t notice, and if he did, he’d understand. Gradually, other students began to join the dance floor. Neville and Ginny swept past you, looking adorably awkward in each other’s arms. You felt your table rattle slightly, looking to see Theo and Pansy pushing in their chairs. With a wink to the rest of the table, Theo gently led Pansy to the dance floor. Crabbe and Goyle let out a series of whoops, hollers, and wolf whistles, eliciting a death stare from a nearby McGonagall.

You swallowed hard, glancing over at Draco. His mocking expression was gone now, and he looked as if he was about to vomit all over the silk tablecloth. His hand had now also gone a bit clammy in yours. You breathed a short sigh of relief, finding comfort in knowing he was just as nervous as you were. Reaching up, you lightly poked the tall boy in his cheek. 

“Would it be ridiculous if we were to go out there and dance?” You asked gently, the lilt in your voice sarcastic.

Slightly caught off guard, Draco peered at you, the corner of his lips gradually pulling upwards. 

“It would be ridiculous,” he replied, feigning incredulity. He gulped. “But we should do it anyway.”

“I agree wholeheartedly, Mr. Malfoy.”

Draco led you gingerly to the dance floor. He slid an arm around your waist with a surprising amount of ease, considering he was much taller than you. He drew you close, and you could once again smell the apple and sandalwood. You wrapped your arms around his neck, two of you elegantly waltzing in line amongst the flurry of gowns and clumsy adolescents.

“You’re surprisingly light on your feet, Y/N,” murmured Draco. He spun you on your heels, then pulled you back in.

“Surprisingly?”

“I didn’t strike you as the dancing type, that’s all.”

Draco lifted you off the ground in unison with the other couples, placing you gently back on your feet.

“And I didn’t strike you as the sort of person who’d ask a girl to the ball and then hold her hand,” you quipped. “To be honest.”

“I mean, you’re not just any girl,” he smirked. He paused, then cringed, realizing what he’d just said. “Merlin, I’ve gone soft.”

You rolled your eyes, despite the rapid beating in your chest. 

“And what exactly does that mean?”

Adjusting your arms around his neck, you plucked up the courage to draw yourself in, just the tiniest bit closer. Draco gazed at you with a never before seen intensity, his lips trembling faintly. The sound of the orchestra faded away, your ears ringing until you could hear only the sounds of your breathing and his.

“I do have something to tell you,” he whispered, moving one of his hands to brush a stray curl away from your face. 

“Go on. Spit it out, then,” you replied softly.

He sighed, giving you another twirl. 

“I’m ace at potions.”

Your lips quickly contorted. That wasn’t at all what you’d been hoping or expecting he’d say.

“What?”

A sheepish smile broke across his face.

“I’m at the top of our class, aside from Granger,” he retorted.

“Yes, I know,” you said impatiently. “So?”

“So I didn’t need your help.”

Draco snorted at your bewildered expression. The orchestra neared the end of their piece when realization finally dawned on you. The sincerity on Draco’s face was daunting. He hadn’t needed help with Potions.

“You absolute _twit,_ ” you guffawed, heart pounding.

The waltz ended with a movement of Flitwick’s hand, and the crowd clapped merrily. Students and teachers slowly began to clear the dance floor and return to their tables for supper, but you had yet to release Draco from your arms. He slowly began to remove his hands from your waist. Without thinking, you lightly grabbed his wrist, keeping him still. 

“Well. If you wanted to be close to me, you could’ve just asked,” you whispered. 

“In my defense, I wasn’t entirely sure you would have said yes.”

You frowned at him, wondering how he could be so utterly blind, even after years of your attempts at flirtatious banter and secret pining. Never would you have believed that he was thinking the same thing. 

“Don’t be daft,” you muttered.

Cautiously, you lifted a hand to his face, running your thumb over his jaw. Draco held your gaze with such intensity that you suddenly felt dozens of eyes on your back. At this point, you realized that almost everyone else had returned to their seats, and the orchestra had begun to play a soft melody as dinner was served.

“We should probably go sit down, Draco,” you said quietly. You lowered your hand and removed yourself from Draco reluctantly. You took a step toward your table.

Suddenly, you were spun by the arm, and Draco’s lips were on yours. Your eyes widened at the spontaneity of the act, but you quickly kissed him back, your fervor unmatched. He tasted like peppermint humbugs, and his hair felt like occamy feathers under your fingertips as you moved your hands up his neck. As Draco silently confirmed his theory regarding citrus flavor, you briefly returned to your suspicion about someone slipping a hallucinogenic into your tea, then gladly pushed the thought away when Draco placed a hand on the small of your back. 

When the two of you pulled away, you heard your friends cheer faintly from the table while Draco wore the most smug and _irritatingly gorgeous_ smirk. 

“You’re impossibly annoying,” he whispered, “Are you aware of that?”

“Wow. You must be describing yourself,” you countered.

From the corner of your eye, you saw a harried looking McGonagall approaching the dance floor. The two of you were clearly not the only pair of teenagers she’d had to pry from each other that night. You and Draco shared an urgent look, then dashed back to the table, hand in hand, giggling like idiots.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________

  
The night sky above the castle was now a dark Ravenclaw blue, illuminated by the many clusters of stars that were sprinkled about. You and Draco ambled around the courtyard, making your way back to the Slytherin common room. The two of you had spent the last few hours sipping flutes of sparkling pumpkin juice to the infectious sounds of The Weird Sisters, all while ignoring the incessant teasing from your friends. You had received a fair amount of nasty stares throughout the evening, mainly from fans of Draco who had witnessed your kiss. Not that there were many people who _didn’t_ see it. But you and Draco had glared back at them, and Draco looked at you proudly each time. A few nights ago, you lay awake, wondering if he’d ever see you in the way you saw him. Now, as you stood in the snow, wearing Draco’s coat, and kissing him as if you had done it a million times, you silently rejoiced in the fact that you’d never have to buy peppermint humbugs again.


End file.
